Still Alive
by razgriz108
Summary: Larry "Solo Wing Pixy" Foulke has been adrift ever since his last duel with Cipher. Now, at a dive bar in Delarus after the Usean Continental War, he tries to figure out where to go next and more importantly, what he should fight for. Will an encounter with ISAF's legendary ace help him find his way?


The following is a non-profit fan based short story. _Ace Combat 04: Shattered Skies_ and _Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War_ are all owned by Project Aces, Namco Bandai Games and are licensed by Sony Computer Entertainment America.

Please support the official release.

_**Still Alive**_

REPUBLIC OF DERLARUS, USEAN CONTINENT- 2007

I slunk into the tavern, exhausted from the constant border skirmishes. Though the war with Erusea may be over, some of their soldiers just don't know when to give up and go home.

"HEY!" the barkeep shouted. "LEAVE YOUR WEAPON AT THE DOOR!"

I glanced at the rifle slung across my shoulder. I had grown so accustomed to its weight that I had forgotten that it was there. I simply shrugged at the barkeep and tiredly slid my AK off of my shoulders and placed it on the rack. Granted, it's not exactly ISAF standard issue, but I prefer the rugged reliability and stopping power of the Yuktobanian rifle over the homegrown FAL. That, and pretty much every single Erusean soldier was packing an AK, so finding ammo was never a problem for me. As I made my way over to the bar, I caught my voice coming from the TV.

_"Did you know... there are three kinds of aces?"_

I groaned. _Great_, I thought, _it's that damned OBC documentary. Just what I _don't_ need to be reminded of!_ The barkeep must have sensed my frustration. He reached out across the bar and placed an understanding hand on my arm.

"What'll ya have, son?"

"I don't really care, just make it strong."

While he went off to mix my drink, a squad of loud, obnoxious soldiers barged their way into the dive and proceeded to occupy the booth right behind where I was sitting. Even in the dim light, I could get a good read on them. Their uniforms identified them as being ISAF, but their eyes betrayed their inexperience. _FNG's. Every one of them._ They had to be straight out of boot camp. _I doubt any of them have actually _fired_ a rifle, let alone have been shot at!_

"What the hell is this shit?!" the leader of the rookies demanded, if you could call him that. "Who's got the remote? I wanna see the fucking game!"

The barkeep came back with my drink and pointed to a man sitting alone in the far corner of the tavern. Even though his features were obscured by shadows, you could tell just from the way he carried himself that this man had seen combat, probably had seen too much. He nursed a drink, watching the documentary on the Belkan War intently.

"He has the remote," the barkeep stated calmly. "But before you morons go and get your asses handed to you, you should know that man is Mobius 1."

The clowns visibly paled. "That guy's the Ribbon Fighter?" the leader asked. His comrades pulled him back to his seat. "You know, maybe we should just let him watch." I glanced back at the ace, but he just kept staring at the television with an intensity that I haven't seen in ages, the mewling of the insects in the booth not even registering as a blip on his radar.

I turned back to my drink and wondered what the hell I was doing here, a volunteer soldier, a ground pounder in the ISAF army. I was a fighter pilot, an ace, dammit! Oh, yeah. That's right. After the Belkan War, I betrayed my best, and only friend. I killed his wingman, a wide-eyed kid, not even twenty, who was excited about finally proposing to his girl. And then I forced my friend to shoot me down.

_"So, have you found a reason to fight yet, Buddy?"_

My own words came back to haunt me. At the time, I thought I had found one, a reason to fight. "A World With No Boundaries." It made sense. Every war man has ever fought has been over borders. Arbitrary lines drawn on a map by politicians with their heads shoved so far up their own asses that they can't see how it will affect the people actually _living_ there. Erase those lines, those borders, and there would be nothing to fight over. At least that was the idea. I was a fool to actually think it would work.

It only occurred to me as I was dragging myself across ground zero of the Seven Pillars of Belka (pretty name for a nuclear holocaust) that people fought over all kinds of reasons: jealousy, anger, revenge, even over something as petty as spite! I realized that while a united world was indeed something worth fighting for, it couldn't be achieved at the point of a gun, well, a nuke.

I wandered the world for the next few years. Ironically, it _was_ the threat of global devastation that finally convinced the world to put aside its differences and _do_ something. Thanks to the Ulysses Asteroid, every country on Earth banded together to come up with a way to defend the human race from extinction. I hoped that after the crisis was over, that this spirit of goodwill would remain. I should have known it wouldn't last.

After planet fall, Erusea went to war with ISAF over a fucking refugee dispute. So I volunteered as a soldier in the coalition army. I guess, the idea that a continent of nations banding together for a common cause appealed to me, but in truth, I couldn't just sit this one out. I knew that _he'd_ eventually show up. The Demon Lord of the Round Table was a Mercenary, one of the best. I was sure that ISAF, maybe even Erusea, would be dying to get their hands on him. But, Erusea had their Yellow Squadron. And ISAF ended up being saved by the Ribbon Fighter, a true Soldier if I ever saw one. With the war officially over, and a new Erusean government in power, the likelihood of _his_ showing up dwindled. And now, I was at a loss as to where I should go.

I couldn't go home. I was disgusted at what Belka had become. They went from being the epitome of aerial knighthood and honor to becoming the sort of monsters that would drop seven nukes _on their own soil_ just to spite their enemies! If I went back to Ustio, I'd be arrested as a traitor. If I went to Osea, or Yuktobania, I'd be arrested as a terrorist. I figured I could go to Nordennavic in the north, but that wouldn't help me figure out what to _do_.

_I guess _I_ don't have a reason to fight either, Buddy. _ Once again, my voice from the TV pulled me out of my sad reverie.

_"Will he see this video? If you meet him, give him a message for me. 'Yo Buddy. Still alive? And thanks, friend. See you again.'"_

_'See you again.' Yeah, that'll ever happen,_ I thought bitterly. I decided to drown my sorrows in booze when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around. The man's face was only partially visible thanks to the dim light and the heavy haze of tobacco, but I noticed the Ribbon patch on his jacket. He gave me a warm smile and handed me a folded up napkin. I wasn't sure, but I could've sworn I saw a glistening around his eyes. He patted my shoulder again, and walked away, never saying a word.

I stared after him, trying to figure out why the hell _Mobius 1_ would act like that toward a complete stranger. I eyed my drink suspiciously. _I did ask for a strong drink, but I'm not sure I wanted to start seeing things! _Then I saw the napkin still in my hand. It was real. It had to have been. You can't physically hold a figment of your imagination. _So, what did he give me?_

Curiosity got the better of me. I carefully unfolded the napkin. Written on it were six simple words.

_Still alive, Buddy. See you again._

I smiled. _So, you finally found something worth fighting for after all._ leaned back, my fears of the future melted away. I finished my drink and grabbed the napkin. I tossed the barkeep his pay and walked out with my rifle and a new sense of purpose. _I wonder if ISAF needs a Mobius 2?  
_

* * *

_A/N: I'm working under the idea that Cipher is Mobius 1. I know that there isn't any concrete evidence from the games to support this, but I believe that Cipher, disillusioned by having to shoot down his best friend, went back home and created a new identity for himself. Again, I know there is no canon evidence supporting this, so please, keep that in mind. Thanks._


End file.
